


Cosmos Bound

by JD_Riley



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Alien Sex, Anal Play, Angst, Body Horror, Body snatching, Existential Crisis, First Kiss, First Time, Hermaphroditic Alien Biology, Minor Character Death, Other, Teaching an Imposter to Love, Tentacles, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Riley/pseuds/JD_Riley
Summary: He had never encountered a mind able to conceptualize himself before. A living being so uniquely able to perceive itself anditself combined.He'd never had access to this kind of introspection. Not only that, there was a fear here along with other emotions. An amorphous terror that coiled in the guts of this body that he had never felt before.There was something in here with him.As though the previous life form did not fully leave the husk as he inhabited it. As though he could hear it as he rifled through its memory.What are you?! What have you done to me!? Get out! Get out! GET OUT!
Relationships: Imposter/Dr. Snow
Comments: 52
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

Memory is such a funny thing. It gives life to things. Even things that are dead and gone. Memory wasn't something it was used to. It. He? He wasn't sure. This mind and this host had such an interesting brain—something he wasn't used to. What all of this was: the ability to replay incidents and locations and elements of life and reflect over them again and again without living completely in _the now._ What was this complex creature? Human? What was that? His previous host was a tiny thing with an exoskeleton that was not useful and was somewhat fragile in nature. This host was large and unknown—though most things were unknown. He was young. Very young. He knew that about himself, at the least. A formless, shapeless thing, he took the body of whatever he was within and the longer he was inside the host, the more the host's form was altered to reflect a hybrid formation of host and...him. _It_.

He had never encountered a mind able to conceptualize himself before. A living being so uniquely able to perceive itself and _itself combined_. He'd never had access to this kind of introspection. Not only that, there was a fear here along with other emotions. An amorphous terror that coiled in the guts of this body that he had never felt before. _There was something in here with him_. As though the previous life form did not fully leave the husk as he inhabited it. As though he could hear it as he rifled through its memory.

_What are you?! What have you done to me!? Get out! Get out! GET OUT!_

He spent a long time sitting in his bunk on the frigate—Skeld—running his fingertips over the skin of his host testing the nerves and sensation in his new body. The way the ridges of the fingertips could discern texture and provide liquid tickling feelings over the arms and the legs. Taking over a new host was sometimes a strange affair. It took him a long time to get used to it. But this one was easy. Physically, it was easy. Two arms. Two legs. The skin was somewhat fragile, the sensations new and thrilling. He spent a long time running the pads of the fingers over the teeth, interested in the hard shapes of them. He contemplated the feet, somehow thinking that it was novel that they belonged to him (how far away they were from the head!) and the hands, testing their ability to lift and move anything he wished, save for the things that were too difficult to too heavy.

Mentally, it was difficult. Perhaps it was too difficult. Perhaps it was not worth it.

_God why! God, why?! Why? Why? WHY?_

The sensations were so powerful. The invisible shouting was so loud. He could hardly begin to know what to do when this mind began rolling over itself with ideas and thoughts and imaginary things and all those terrible _memories._ Sharp. Dark. Lips and arms and gray tenderness with an unfamiliar emotion tangled up within the images that didn't make any sense to a young and inexperienced _thing_ unfamiliar with _humanness_.

He found a mirror in the washroom of his bunk room and stared into it for a length of time, fighting the notion that he _didn't belong._ What was this? _What was this?!_ Never before! Never before had this happened! He took forms and took hosts and it was easy and freeing and there was nothing to it but a vague notion of wriggling instinct leftover as though a faint residue from the previous host. He knew how to spin their webs or find their prey. It was never so complex. It was never _like this._

What did it mean to be _human?_

Clearly, he was in over his head. He reached up, pressing the fingertips of this body against the forehead and then the temples. Why couldn't it stop? Why couldn't the images, the words, the emotions just cease? Why couldn't he just go back to blank whirring instinct? Why was this being so bizarre? Why were there so many questions? Why were there so many _whys?_

For all of the ability of this creature to bring forth answers, the answers that meant the most were obscured by an unfathomable darkness. What was a human? Just this? Why was that insufficient? Why did it not make him feel better about being here and being in this body? And if this was human—what was he? It? Why did it bother him so much to not know?

He swallowed, the feeling very foreign and strange, the tongue in the mouth feeling uncomfortable. It didn't fit in there quite right. Was this okay? Something told him that it was normal but he couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop thinking about a lot of things. The vastness of space. The inability of this mind to wrap fully around concepts like time (what in the world was _time?!_ ) and insurmountable distances. He recognized that he was trembling, sweating, that what he was feeling was what the host brain conceptualized as _anxiety_. Thoughts were still tumbling around, falling on top of each other like heavy logs, rolling this way and that and constantly replaced by new ones as the mess grew larger and larger until he couldn't stand it anymore and he reached out to the mirror he found himself again in front of.

The glass was cool and the fingertips felt the chill and the smoothness and he stared past them at the host's eyes in the mirror, hazel and wide and frightened. Frightened? Confused? Upset? He didn't know. He thought he might have known but every guess seemed wrong.

He'd only been in this body for a few hours. How long would it take him to know everything? How long would it take him to parse through all the unknowable things?

_Oh God! Oh God! Why?!_

He brought the hand on the mirror back toward the chest, pressing his fingertips against it as a strange and unwanted feeling passed through him. It was pain but it wasn't painful. He vaguely understood it to be associated with grief. But what was grief? And why did he feel it? That frightening notion that he was not alone in this body came to him again and he stared right into those haunted hazel eyes, wondering if there really was still something left inside this host when he took it over. A...soul? What was a soul? There weren't any answers in this memory. Only a vague concept.

Soul? _Soul?_ What was a human soul? It was not consciousness. It was not life.

Was that what was inside him? Beside him? _Combining with him?_

The thought and the sensation was far more unsettling than he thought it should have been. Why was that so terrible? Didn't he exist to combine? Did he not exist to form a hybrid creature with the host body?

But then this human mind got its strange tendrils around him and made him think twice. Why did he really exist? Was all he did a matter of instinct? Was everything about him just nature and biology taking things to some odd and dangerous extreme? Was he meant to be here? What other purpose did he have? What purpose did humans have? What purpose was there to anything at all?

_God, why?! God, why?!_ _**GOD, WHY!?** _

He pressed the palms of the hands against his temples, willing the hideous screaming to stop. Please stop. Please!

There was a sound behind him. The whirring of the electrical door to the bunk room. He turned around, his mouth open and his eyes wide. The memory of this host filed through the sparse crew of the frigate and when he shuffled out from the washroom he found Ned Pinkerton standing in the doorway.

“Hey. Didn't see you in the cafe for dinner, what's up? You feelin' alright?”

Ned Pinkerton was an asshole. He knew this from the memories he's parsed through before and he knew that Ned was not here to see if he was alright. He was here because he wanted to know something or do something or get something. He never did anything without an ulterior motive.

The voice that came out of him was tentative and odd, the language strange hard to wield at first. “I'm fine.” _Fine. F-i-n-e._ He worked through the phrase in his head beyond the grief and the painless pain which wouldn't leave him alone. _I'm fine._ Lies. Lies were good. Lies would keep him alive.

Ned didn't seem particularly satisfied but only mumbled a bit, platitudes and ramblings that didn't require answer before he touched things that the creature vaguely recognized as sentimental to the host.

“Don't touch those.”

Ned looked up at him suddenly and then put down the fragile glass replica of a planet called “Earth” into its plastic holder. “Alright...no need to be testy. Um...you see Doc recently? You look tired, maybe he'll give you a pill or something. Help you sleep.”

“I don't need help.”

“Yeah. Right. Sure.” Ned took a deep breath, his expression difficult to read. Humans were so strange. It was going to be hard to know what they were thinking. Even the data bank of this human's memory wasn't enough for him to know and that frustrated him. The other human left and he stood in the middle of the room, the screaming in his head curiously gone. A thought, or a voice inside, small and soft and wondering seemed to speak.

_What are you doing? What are you? Why did you do this?_

He didn't know how to answer, reaching up to press the fingertips over the mouth, feeling the softness of the lips before he whispered softly. “I do not know.”

There was silence then and he looked around, opening the closet and putting on a comfortable-looking set of clothes before he slipped on some soft moccasins and ventured out of the bunk room, his hand on the belly. He was hungry. The cafeteria was easy to find as the largest room on the port side of the frigate.

Human food was relatively satisfying and would have to do for now as the modifications to this host were some time in coming and he would be limited in his options until then. It was easy to use the human's card to register his meal—something done to make sure of the nutrient value of each human in order to determine their health maintenance. He wondered what might happen to him when he was required to see the doctor.

_Doctor. Doctor Snow._

A hideous feeling lanced through his abdomen as he sat at the cafeteria table. He was alone for the most part, as the normal dining time was over and everyone else was busy with their tasks and he pressed his hand to his stomach. Memories started to eat at him, chewing into his consciousness as he recalled Dr. Snow.

_Soft lips. A tender, sweet touch and the rasp of stubble over his chin and cheeks. Grey eyes piercing into him. Breathlessness. Stolen moments in dark places when no one was watching. A clandestine affair hidden from the knowledge of the others as they would never understand the attraction between men like them, so removed by age and circumstance._

The creature pressed against his chest, willing the feelings to go away.

_Don't touch him! Don't_ _**touch** _ _him! I'll kill you! Don't!_

He stood up suddenly, feeling sweat forming on his brow. When he left the cafeteria, he had only one task he had to complete before bed, the knowledge of it feeling like a common and familiar old routine. Halfway to his usual nightly check to make sure the electrical systems were in full working order, he heard someone say the host's name.

“Ink. Wait.”

_Don't hurt him. Please. Don't hurt him, I'm begging you_ _**please** _ _, whatever you are, please don't hurt him._

Snow caught up to him easily, his features recognizable as attractive for humans and presenting within him a strange emotion that the creature didn't know if he liked. Nervousness. A sense that he didn't belong here. A sense that he was _trespassing._

He'd normally eaten the mates of any host but the unsettling notion that he was not alone in this body was rearing its head again as the thoughts kept screaming at him over and over.

_Don't hurt him. Don't hurt him. God, don't hurt him._

Snow reached him easily. “Are you headed to electrical? Would you like a buddy?”

A buddy? He wondered what this meant. There were memories of this. Electrical. Hot and tingling and dry—that was, except for the places that this man would touch him. Sweat-slicked and blood-flushed and spreading his thighs.

_DON'T TOUCH HIM._

“No...” he tried softly. “I don't. I know what I'm doing.”

“Oh.” Snow's brows knitted just slightly as though he wasn't expecting a rebuke like this and with that, it was over and the feeling in the creature's chest was even harder and stronger but he felt as though the thing inside the body with him was curled up and soft and everything became quiet. He managed to fumble his way through the tasks that were set for him that evening, muddling through the memories and the accumulated knowledge of a mature human before he stumbled over a recollection that might have explained what that terrible not-pain feeling was. What _he_ wasn't feeling but the _human_ was. The _soul—_ whatever that was. It was at least a hypothesis and it was all he had for an answer.

He thought it might have been _heartbreak_.


	2. Chapter 2

It was seven days before this body lost its first tooth, yellowish and bloody in the sink one morning as he swiped the tongue over the hole where a new, sharper tooth was coming in. Only the back teeth would be replaced. The front were likely already sharp enough and blending in was important. It was nine days before the genitals were discolored and he knew that there would be significant changes there. It didn't hurt. It was a warmth more than anything, manifesting as a slight fever and a shine of sweat over the body. He avoided the medical bay, hiding what would be misinterpreted as a sickness as he went about his tasks. The amount of food that this human was allotted wasn't exactly enough that was required for his raised metabolism and so he was reduced to breaking into the food stores some nights, but it was done easily and no suspicions fell upon him. He had, in a moment of weakness, caught and devoured one of the crewmates' little mammal pet which the host's memory recalled as a “cat.” Bizarrely, after having done so he experienced a very unpleasant emotion identified as _regret._

The _thing_ inside the body with him was so often quiet though pangs of bizarre emotions plagued him, especially when he caught a glimpse of Dr. Snow who seemed determined to catch his eye or speak to him throughout the day. He avoided as much interaction as possible, unable to determine if the humans would be able to tell that there was something off about him. Surely the doctor would pick it out. A smell or the way sweat shined on his flesh. Only another week or so, he thought, and all of him would be complete— _combined._ He just needed a little bit more time.

Time was in short supply when it came to keeping himself sequestered. One evening he found himself alone in the lower engine room listening to the hum and feeling it radiate through the body as he stared outside the pressure-proof clear windows to the vastness of space. He didn't hear the door open behind him, too in-tuned to the way the engine's ambient sound thrummed through him and calmed the raging thoughts and memories that insisted upon playing out each and every moment.

“Ink?”

He startled, the sensation of shock new and jolting as his hand came up to the throat and he whirled about, feeling new prickles of sweat at the temples. When he saw that it was Snow, he blinked, taking a step backward which put him against the window.

_Don't touch him._

It was calmer now. The voice inside still did not trust him but it was stronger and more demanding. It was less scared. It was less desperate. It had been here for long enough to know that it had no real power...or did it? The creature wasn't certain what the extent of its power was. Could it stop him? Could it manipulate part of its body still? The thought unsettled him greatly.

“You've been avoiding me.”

He didn't respond, the side of his mouth tightening a little bit as he turned his head away and stared out at the stars which flowed in what seemed a patternless sequence far off.

“Are you going to speak to me? Have I done something to you?”

_Don't you dare touch him._

The creature sucked in a deep breath and then shook his head. Dr. Snow had never done anything to this human host that was not perfectly reasonable or wanted. He'd been kind and sweet and intimate, altruistic and giving...he was the perfect mate. The unexplained distance that was suddenly between them was surely strange for him.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong?” His voice was deep and soothing. The scent of his shampoo and bodywash fresh and just a slight bit spicy. His eyes were shining in the dimness of the lower engine room and the soft starlight caught in the silver of his hair, gleaming near his temples and the streak in the front. “Do I have to guess?”

He felt his back teeth come together softly, sharp and powerful, the muscles in the jaw stronger now and more defined. It would be a few more days before he could crunch easily through bone. “I didn't mean to be unkind. I was...”

_Tell him. Tell him you're a monster. A fucking monster. Tell him and let him kill you. I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much._

He swallowed tightly, not expecting the thing inside him to say such a thing. “I was nervous. I think I was having second-thoughts.”

_Second thoughts? I would never. Do you think you're going to get away with this? Do you think he won't see right through—_

“That's alright,” Snow told him, approaching until he was near the window beside him. “You're allowed to be nervous.”

He let his eyes shift to the vent in the floor, wishing he might just crawl into it to escape this hideous awkwardness between them. It would only make his deception easier if he would let Snow touch him. If he would let the man kiss him at least a little. But he couldn't risk it. His body was still changing and he would know that something was strange. It wasn't as though he could honestly keep up the ruse in any case—his genitals were going to alter and shift and humans were more suspicious than other creatures. They were observant and discerning. They would throw him into the vastness of space to die if they thought him different or an outsider.

_An imposter._

He chewed on his bottom lip. “It's not fair to you.”

Snow reached out, gently touching the back of his gloved finger against the sleeve of Ink's uniform suit. It was a touch that was so light and so affectionate that the creature blinked, unsure if the painless pain in his chest belonged to the host or to him. It unsettled him again. “I don't mind if you're unsure about us. You're allowed to be uncertain. Are you worried we'll be discovered?”

“I am worried about discovery,” he said truthfully. “More than I can admit.”

_If you hurt him, I'll kill you. Don't hurt him. Don't do it. Don't break his heart with my eyes. With my voice._

He frowned, confused. Would the host not wish for him to be as separated from his mate as possible? What was this human emotion? What was the motivation? Logic and reason would state that—

“You shouldn't worry about things like that. But if you are, we can take a step back. This isn't a speeding train, you and I. We're perfectly able to reverse and go back to one step previous. I don't have to touch you.”

“It wasn't that I didn't like being touched,” he provided softly, inexplicably taking the host's emotions into account. “It is only that I am nervous about how much we are seen together.”

“Then we will be seen together less. Do you want to be touched still?”

“N-No...I...”

Snow withdrew his hand, curling his fingers and leaning against the window while he peered out at the stars. “It's difficult to be men like us all the way out here. I'm willing to wait for you, Ink. I don't mind how long it takes. You're my guiding star. You know that. How I feel about you.”

“I know.” He did.

_You can't know. You can't. I know you can see inside me. I know you're using my mind. That you can see everything he's ever done for me. With me. But you can't know my heart. You can't know what I feel for him. What he feels for me. You can't know. You can't. Fuck you. Fuck you, I hate you. I hate you. Why did you do this to me? Why am I still here?_ _**Why couldn't you just kill me?** _

A hot feeling came into the cheeks and he felt a wetness in the eyes and he was disturbed greatly, sure now that the thing he felt in the chest was sourced from the words that played inside the mind and reverberated in the heart.

“Hey,” Snow tried, his palm warm as he touched Ink's elbow, encouraging him to look up at him. “You're alright. There's nothing to be nervous about when it comes to me. I'm not going to leave you. I'm going to be here for you. No matter what.”

_It's not me! It's not me! Help me! HE'S NOT ME!!!_

“I'm sorry,” he replied, uncertain as to why exactly he said it. What was he sorry for? He had a feeling that he knew what he was sorry for but he couldn't admit to it—it was unthinkable, wasn't it? He stared out at the stars next to this man who had been so intimate with the host he inhabited and he thought the notion irrational. That he should apologize for having destroyed something. Sullied something. Rendered this love one-sided and twisted. “I'm not...I'm not what you think.”

The thing inside him, the host, was quiet, perhaps unable to decide what he wanted.

Snow sighed, his expression difficult to comprehend. “Are you sorry to have misled me? I know you're not breaking this off...are you?”

The imposter felt a hot tear escape one eye and then the other and he raised the back of his hand up to wipe them away. “I don't know what I'm doing.”

“Alright. That's alright. I'll give you some space. I don't know what you're going through right now but if you want to talk to me about it, you know where to find me.”

The door opened abruptly behind them and they turned to find Cian Bullock there, white-faced and wide-eyed.

Snow's voice was stern. “Cian? What's wrong?”

“The sample. From the asteroid. The cells we extracted. They're gone.”

“What do you mean they're gone?”

“There was a minor power failure and the samples thawed. It was slight but it was enough. Those cells weren't just cells, Doctor, I think it was some kind of entity. And to make matters worse, the cook's noticed that some of the food stores have been broken into. Pinkerton thinks I'm insane but you have to believe me, Doctor, it's killed Astro.”

Snow's head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowed. “What?”

Cian's lower lip trembled and the imposter felt a small pang of that painless pain in him again. _Regret. Sadness. Frustration._ “My _cat_ , Doc. It killed my _cat_. What was left of him was hidden in the vents in Electrical.”

There was a silence that drew out between them all before the imposter offered his quiet voice. “Are...are you certain that—”

“Do you think I'm crazy?” Cian interrupted. “Do you think I'm crazy? Why would food be going missing?!” He put his hand to his face, rubbing at his forehead. “Why would someone reduce my cat to fur and bone and hide him in the _vents_?!”

He blinked and then looked to Snow. “I...I don't know...”

_The fuck you don't know, you piece of shit._

The doctor put a hand out to Cian. “Alright, we'll meet you for supper tonight around seven and we can talk about this. We can puzzle it out. If the cells have manifested into something, there has to be some kind of evidence. Locard's Exchange type of thing. We can work it out, we have the ability. If there's something to be found, we'll find it.”

“It's _in the ship,_ Snow. It's here with us. It's in the vents. I'm sure of it.”

“Then we'll do a vent blow and force it out into the air lock. What we're not going to do is panic.”

The creature was feeling very nervous, the palms of the hands sweaty and slick. Even after Cian had gone, he felt the heart of this body pounding from the threat of discovery.

“Are you alright, Ink?”

“Yes. It makes me nervous. To think that something could be...”

“We've known there was life on these asteroids,” Snow provided, his brows tight together. “That it might be...well...more able than we gave it credit, well I think that's a possibility we didn't fully consider. If a clump of cells frozen for maybe millions of years could come alive and become stronger and larger and able to kill a cat...how big can it get? How strong can it get?”

_Oh my god please don't hurt him. Please._

The thing let out a shuddering breath at the gentle sobbing pleas he heard inside his own mind. The distressing human sounds of a man in love. Love? The imposter looked at Snow, studied his face, recalled the memories of the host. Soft, tender lips. Mapping touches between his thighs. The hitching euphoria of orgasm.

Could a monster feel love? If he truly wished for it, could he _combine_ so far?

A horrible notion of futility crashed over him like a wave of darkness.

If he did discover that it was possible to feel love...if he could determine what love was and what it meant for humans... _would he want to feel it after all?_


	3. Chapter 3

There was a glitch in the electrical systems for the supply ship that was to deliver the food and staple stores to the Skeld and the news reached them a few days after he and Snow had spoken together when the discovery had been made that there was a _life_ aboard the ship that was unaccounted for. It was this that had caused the tumble of his instinct and the full extent of his monstrous tendencies. If only this hiccup had occurred _after_ he had fully combined, it wouldn't have been a concern. But combining and changing took up so much energy that he had to _eat_. He didn't care what he ate, he just needed the calories or the change would take too much out of him. It was unsustainable.

The host, the _soul_ inside him had known what was happening somehow. His gentle suggestion came as a shock to the hungry, starving creature.

_You know...Pinkerton's an asshole._

He had been shocked to discover something about humanity that he didn't find in other creatures and learned was distinctly something about those with what was called _sentience._ Malice. It was the ability to be unkind on purpose and by no function of instinct or preservation but simply for the sake of doing. His host, discovering and knowing along with him that if he didn't eat, he would die, was willing to give him a suggestion as coldly stated as though he were suggesting any other innocuous thing like what meat to put on his sandwich.

So he had eaten Pinkerton. He had found him in the storage bay collecting fuel for the lower engine. The imposter had allowed the man to turn around, to even say a few words, wondering if the host inside him, _Ink_ , would take it back.

He didn't.

The bones had crunched under his developed jaws and his hardened teeth. He had consumed much of the body before he dragged what was left of the corpse into the vent, leaving a dark, slick trail of blood behind.

He recalled sitting around the table in the cafeteria while the others, Hickory, Spruce, Cian, and Snow all squabbled and seemed on the edge of panic. First the cat, now Pinkerton. It could be anywhere they said. And then the suggestion was made. Spruce's eyes were filled with the shimmer of doubt when he stated clearly:

“It could be _us_. It could be _among us._ ”

He'd felt a shudder of fear roll through his guts and he looked around the table in turns, stopping on Snow who met his gaze, a flicker of something passing through them.

_Suspicion?_

Terror gripped him and when he was allowed to leave, he avoided everyone, taking himself to his bunk room where he allowed himself to fully feel the fear that was trapped within him. He took off his clothes, standing in front of the mirror. He had more muscle mass than he'd had before and his jaw was a little more defined. He might have been a little taller and his genitals were—well...they were the most changed. Instead of the former penis and testicles, he'd developed an opening which of course led to the womb he'd grown. A creature like him was functionally hermaphroditic, able to carry or sire as it was so rare to come across others of his kind. The tentacle that was made to implant his eggs was able to descend from inside him and could stretch a full five to six feet if necessary.

A profound sadness seemed to come over him as he acknowledged that he would likely never get the chance to mate. He hated this human body. He hated this human mind. How could they live like this? How could they survive knowing so much, being able to see and conceptualize their own bodies and emotions?! He approached the mirror, touching his fingers on it and staring into the eyes of the human form he inhabited, wondering if he ever might think of this reflection as _himself._

He whispered, feeling hot tears welling up. “I have no _self_...there is no _me_.”

Ink's voice was soft inside him. _This is you. The things you've done to me. That's you._

He wept, falling to his knees and touching over his chest and his neck and his face, his forehead hard against the mirror. “I'm sorry. I'm _sorry_. I didn't mean to...it wasn't on purpose. I can't take it back. I can't stop it...”

_It's okay._

“It's not. I've...I've killed you and he loved you.”

_He still loves me. I'm not dead._

The Imposter wept harder, cradling his head in his hands, curling up on the thin carpeting of the bunk room until he could draw in shaking breaths and roll over onto his back to stare at the cold fluorescent lights built into the ceiling. He whispered again. “What am I going to do?”

_I don't know._

“I know you...I know your memories and who you are...all I have is who you are.”

_Then be me._

A soft thought came to him and he rolled over onto his belly, his fingers picking at the carpet. “Wh-What would you do?”

There was quiet inside his mind for a few moments before Ink returned. _I would kiss him. I would tell him. Then I would let him put me in the airlock._

“You...want me to let him kill you?”

 _No. I want you to let him kill_ you _._

He couldn't help but break down again, burying his head back into his arms and laying pathetically on the floor for a long time. “I can't... I can't do it.”

_Could you love him? Like I do?_

“I...I don't know. I don't know what love feels like.”

_If you love him, you will let him reject you. That's the true measure of love. Becoming vulnerable to someone so much so that you would put your life on the line for it. Kiss him, Imposter. Then you'll know._

He managed to crawl into bed, curling up and letting himself fall into a fitful slumber. The next day would be one filled with tasks and basic upkeep of the frigate. Their rations had come in and since he was finished _combining_ , his metabolism had slowed. Pinkerton's extra tasks had been divided up between them and the crew had planned another flush of the vent system but Spruce was certain that it would be for naught. And it would be. Since he was right. The Imposter was one of them.

When he woke the next morning to the little alarm that beeped in his room and the small sunlight lamp that gradually lit over time, he blinked and snuggled back down into the soft sheets, unwilling to face the day. He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to speak to Snow. He didn't want to discover that he was _unwanted._ _Disgusting. Horrible._

He thought as he peered up at the ceiling over the bed, glow in the dark stars stuck there from when Ink was having a childish moment after he'd first come to the Skeld. Other creatures he had adopted so much of their behaviors as a matter of course—to blend and to know how to function. This human and this humanity...all of these complex emotions and the terrible weight of knowing and of being known. Was the combination more than just physical?

_You think that you and I...that my consciousness..._

He reached up to touch at his temple before he looked at his hand, recognizing that sometime in the past week or so he had begun to think of the pieces of the body as _his_. But the body was not _him._ What was _he?_

_I know what you're thinking now. I couldn't before. You think that you and I are going to become one. Mentally and emotionally. You think that I can't resist you...that this is inevitable._

He whispered, turning onto his side and peering over a the door. “I have never felt loneliness. Should I lose you...”

_I'm not going to let you absorb me. I'm not going to let you take my soul._

“I don't want to...” He shut his eyes but the sunlight lamp wouldn't let him return to sleep and so he got up and dressed and he found Dr. Snow fixing some wiring in the cafeteria when he went in for breakfast.

_Ask him to sit with you._

He did. He could feel his face flushing and a nervousness putting a strange feeling in his stomach. The sight of the doctor's hands working and even just simply using his fork while he ate—god, the Imposter couldn't fathom that those hands could _touch_ him. He swallowed hard, wondering if perhaps the emotions of his host really were beginning to fully combine with his consciousness. There was no reason for him to be so worked up was there?

“So,” Snow began as he ate his bacon. “You think about us?”

His face grew even hotter. “Y-yes. A little.”

“Just a little?”

“I...well...”

The man's face was soft and his eyes were kind. “How about we talk about this where the others aren't going to just walk in. Why don't you meet me in security after supper tonight?”

“A-Alright,” he agreed and with that, they finished their meal in relative quiet, exchanging only small bits of conversation that were easy and light though it felt constantly that his heart was ever so slightly malfunctioning. The pain that was not pain was dull but sent a distinctive apprehension through him with every glance he paid upon Snow's visage. That he would, one day, perhaps ask this man to kill him...it was unthinkable. Wasn't it? He felt weak to the draw of him, finding him uniquely attractive and remembering every single kindness he had bestowed upon Ink before their _combining._

 _Oh, he was so giving..._ Ink's voice was wistful in his mind. _The way he touched me. The way he spoke to me. You can't know what it's like. To have a man like that hold you...to have his mouth on you. A dream come true._

Dream. He had experienced dreams and he knew the context of the word but still the concept baffled him. Fantasy. Wonder. When he parted from Snow and he went about his tasks, he was distracted by the thoughts he had of what he might say to the man when they were alone together that night. He felt as though time (good lord, he still didn't understand _time_ ) were slowing, creeping, and drawing out. It took him half a lifetime to get to the evening hours and when they did come and he was standing in security looking at the monitors, he thought he must be in the wrong place. He must be doing the wrong thing.

_Don't think. Just kiss._

Kiss... He touched his lips with his fingertips, examining their plushness and he imagined how it might feel to press them against another man's. He didn't have enough time to fully comprehend it before Snow was with him, closing the door behind him to leave them both bathed only in the cool light which came from the monitors.

_Don't think. Just kiss._

He was nervous, his hands sweaty as he opened his mouth as if to tell the doctor—

_Don't think. Just kiss._

All of a sudden he was propelled forward, stumbling into Snow as the man approached and pulling at his clothes, tugging him down until their lips could meet.

God.

He wasn't prepared. It was more than he could have imagined, a sensation like no other he had ever experienced. No memory he had stolen could possibly prepare him for the delicate softness of Snow's mouth upon his or the fluttering impossible feelings that lingered in his stomach as his pain which was not pain but his heart soaring thrummed through his whole body. Was this...love? He let the man guide him, holding his shoulders and leading him in the kiss until it became deeper, Snow's tongue begging to open him and explore him with its slick wet heat. The Imposter allowed it, tilting his head to encourage this kiss, this intimacy, this thing he could not fathom to be real.

 _I can feel your discovery,_ Ink told him, the sound of him breathless and giddy. _He's perfect, isn't he? I know you won't hurt him. Be gentle. Always be gentle. He loves me...I want to see his eyes with all that love one more time before..._

The creature felt the kiss come to a natural end and he purposefully opened his eyes again, staring up into Snow's gray eyes, shining with clear affection above his genuine smile.

“Doctor...”

“You've been lonely, haven't you?”

 _Lonely?_ Even the sound of the word in his ears was enough to remind him that should he lose, Ink, he should lose the only being in the universe who could even begin to understand him. What he was. Who he was.

If he was anyone at all.

Snow's brows tilted down. “Ink? Have I said something? Are you alright?”

“Snow, I...I have to tell you something.”

_Don't fail me, Imposter. You can do it. You're strong. I know you are. I know you can feel. I know you can love._

“You can tell me anything, you know that.”

He swallowed hard. “The...the cells that were taken from the asteroid. They...they belonged to a...” He felt tears well up in his eyes and he wiped at them before he threw his arms around Snow's middle and wept into him, the gentle, affectionate touches over the back of his head and his shoulders almost too much to bear. His words came out on a breath, nearly a whisper. “ _They were a parasite._ ”

“Ink...” There was a gravity to his voice. “You're telling me this because...you're infected?”

“Yes.”

“So...Astro the cat and...Pinkerton...”

“ _Yes._ ” He wept deeply, his arms around Snow a tight ring. “Please,” he begged. “Ink wanted—”

“Ink...wanted...?” He carefully moved, turning the Imposter's head up to look at him. “Are you telling me...you're not Ink?” He narrowed his eyes, a hurt within them easy to see. “Who are you, then?”

 _Oh god,_ Ink cried out inside him. _I love you, handsome. I love you so much._

“Ink is...alive inside me. He wanted me to kiss you. He wanted to tell you how much he loves you. He loves you so much and I'm...” He let out a few soft sobs. “I'm so _sorry._ I didn't know. I didn't know humanity was so difficult. That it was so awful. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. _I'm so sorry._ ”

He had thought that perhaps in telling someone, in getting out into the air as sound, it might seem like a weight was off of him. But it was the opposite. He felt it squeezing him ever tighter as he waited for the reaction. He wanted Snow to love _him_. He wanted to Snow to see _him._ He wanted to know what it was like to be _himself._ But it wasn't in his lot. It wasn't his _fate_. He was nothing compared to the spirit of humanity. He was merely the hand which filled a puppet at the expense of a soul. He had no form or being or knowledge of himself. He was...worthless. The knowledge was suffocating.

Snow's face was altered to reflect his emotions, tumbling and terrible even as he still held the body that was once his Ink. “Are you...are you sure?”

“ _Snow..._ ” he wept. “I'm not him. I'm sorry. He's inside me. He's alive. He can hear you and see you and feel you but he's not...me. I don't know what I am. I've never...I've never known any of this before and should I have known, I never would have...god, I would have just...I don't know what I would have done. But I know...” He nearly faltered.

_You can do it._

“I know what I have to do now.”

Snow pulled back from him a little, the loss of the warmth in his embrace forcing a strange emotion into the Imposter's gut. _Rejection..._

“I have to ask you to...kill me.”

The doctor was quiet, eyeing him closely as if trying to notice physical differences. “But you said Ink's inside you.”

“He told me to let you put me in the airlock.”

“That sounds like him. Ever the martyr.”

_Hah. It's like he knows me or something._

Snow's fingertips came to his chin. “Show me. Show me you're not him. And then show me why I should put you in the airlock.”

The Imposter frowned, his lips tight. “I...I killed Pinkerton. And the...the cat.”

“Do you find yourself insatiable?”

“I...had a heightened metabolism during the combination. I...blend better now.”

“Forgive me, Ink, wherever you are, but scientific study is why we're here. Finding the cells was a major breakthrough. Whatever they do, this...well...this is huge. And horrible. But you can feel me. You can see me. You can hear me.”

_Yes, darling. I can._

Snow took the Imposter's face in his warm hands. “I can't put you in the airlock. I can't murder you. No matter what's got its claws in you, I love you. I would die with you. I would sooner crash this frigate and send it burning into the nearest star to be dust with you.”

The Imposter felt hot tears coursing down his cheeks, meeting with Snow's flesh where he touched him. “He loves you, Snow. He loves you so much. And I cannot help but share in his memories and his emotions. I know you must hate me for what I've done. I know you must be so disgusted by me. But I love you, too. I cannot help it. I did not know what love was and now I am finding myself feeling so _human_ and it hurts. It hurts, doctor. Help me...it hurts so bad...”

“ _Shhh,_ ” Snow told him softly, “It's alright. You're okay. I'm not going to let anyone harm you. _Either of you._ ”

The hands upon his face tightened just a little bit before Snow leaned down over him, kissing him again with those lips that had set him afire. And lord, it set him afire anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -chant-
> 
> Monster. Fucker. Monster. Fucker.


End file.
